


the possibility of us

by captaincastello



Series: the possibility of us [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 11:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15662649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captaincastello/pseuds/captaincastello
Summary: It’s never hit him like this before, how thankful he is having this small moment up here with a friend. How their lives had always been in constant peril, how all the training in the world did not necessarily guarantee that cadets can successfully survive their first aerial battle with aliens. How they all survived somehow, and how he ended up here, alone on this rooftop with Kinkade.





	the possibility of us

**Author's Note:**

> it's 3AM and my brain is half-dead, and i spent too long thinking of a title, but here's some GriffKink bc S7 made me thirsty for these boys

Looking up at the darkening sky, it almost feels like it’s been a while since it was simply a velvety canopy of stars and constellations they’ve memorized many simulations ago. The war didn’t last ten years, but they’ve spent so long living under the lights of alien battleships and explosions that for a moment, it takes James’ breath away when he pops his head out of the door leading to the rooftop. In the horizon beyond, the mountains almost completely swallow up the sun, leaving a thin line of gold gradually sinking into the shadows.

A thinner shadow stretches from the edge of the roof to where James stands mesmerized. Even with the person’s body outlined in the afternoon’s dying light, it doesn’t take James a second to recognize who it is that came up here before him.

He knows every lock of those wild curls dancing in the wind, the exact breadth of those wide shoulders, the formation of bones and muscles that make up that particular physique.

He hasn’t taken more than a couple of steps when the deep voice announces his presence.

“Hey.” Kinkade slightly turns his face to look at him. A bit of the sun manages to catch his face, coating him in faint gold and putting a glassy glow in his eyes.

“Looks like I’m late for the show,” James says as he takes a seat beside his fellow pilot. Behind them, their shadows keep stretching further, eventually reaching a point where they touch and melt together. This has always been the best spot to watch the sunset—a high perch directly facing a low mountain ridge to the west.

“Just in time for the second act,” Kinkade says, gesturing upward. Above, black and purple ink blotches out the pink and yellow and orange of the sky, bringing the tiny twinkling stars along with the dark. Finally, night claims the last of the dying rays of sun, and the entire garrison below drowns itself in artificial light to proceed with the day’s activities.

It has been a couple of months since the end of Sendak’s invasion, and Earth is slowly picking herself up from the ashes of war. They know now that Sendak is only one threat in the face of an entire race still out there conquering galaxies and pillaging planets, and their job’s not done yet in preparing for any future attacks, but there’s more breathing room nowadays to rest. James can’t recall the last time he went out to simply experience the breeze around him. He’s already quite used to the feeling of having a blaster in his hands whenever he had to be outside in the open, and sitting here like this, feet dangling in midair and not having to be in constant alert for enemy sightings—it’s something he has to ease back to, but is not unwelcome to him.

The silence stretches out for seconds, minutes. Kinkade seems to be looking at a town not too far from the garrison, a tiny pocket of intergalactic commerce and relations thriving on Earth. The presence of other lifeforms was a blessing, and the instant unity of races who all suffered under the same enemy really brought everyone together, and sped repairs and reconstruction up to a maximum. It made James wonder just what other worlds were out there, hiding among the stars, what uncharted territories, what sort of danger awaits. Will he and his squad fly out there on their own missions, he wonders.

He chances another glance at Kinkade. His eyes are still locked forward into something James can’t see.

It doesn’t really matter, he thinks; silences with Kinkade were normal. It’s not the sort that makes you feel uneasy and want to get out of the situation fast—quite the opposite. James has never told anyone, maybe not even explicitly to himself either, but he has always felt calm, and maybe a little safer, in the steady pillar-like presence of the taller squad member. He knows without a shadow of doubt that Kinkade has his back, and he knows the skies are safer with him in a pilot’s seat.

It’s never hit him like this before, how thankful he is having this small moment up here with a friend. How their lives had always been in constant peril, how all the training in the world did not necessarily guarantee that cadets can successfully survive their first aerial battle with aliens. How they all survived somehow, and how he ended up here, alone on this rooftop with Kinkade.

It’s never hit him like this before, this sudden curiosity of how it feels like if he moved his hand a little to the side so it could land on top of Kinkade’s.

“Griffin?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve been staring,” Kinkade simply says.

“Oh,” James says, immediately tearing his eyes away. “Just thinking about what happens when we finally fly out there, you know. I mean, eventually we’ll have to, Captain Shirogane and Commander Holt have been talking about doing actual flight sims outside our atmosphere once all the repairs and upgrades are done.”

It’s not a lie because he was called to the briefing room prior to this to discuss those matters with the upper brass, but James sort of feels like he’s a clumsy criminal trying to hide a body in the trunk of his car. Kinkade seems to regard him for a second before breaking out in a tiny grin that puts a little warmth in his cheeks.

“It’s going to be awesome,” Kinkade says as he leans on his palms to look up at the dome of night stretching all around them. There’s a fire set ablaze in his eyes that has nothing to do with the reflection of stars, painting him with excitement, with more life. “We’ll finally be up there. We’ve been training for it our whole lives.”

“Yeah,” James responds, still looking at the shining brilliance of Kinkade’s eyes. “You’re a good pilot, Kinkade.”

Those brown eyes descend upon him fast.

“I mean, every one of you,” James quickly adds, a silent reprimanding going off in his brain for not using his internal voice. “I’ve seen all of you in training, and I fought with you during the war. I’m honored to be flying as your squad leader.”

“Likewise,” Kinkade says. “You make a good leader, Griffin.”

James slowly looks away. The younger, doe-eyed James Griffin would have taken it with a big smile, hearing something like that from his former instructors and superiors would make his chest swell with pride. Hearing it from Kinkade somehow feels different; it takes away the air in his lungs and drops all responses from his tongue.

“Speaking of the war, we haven’t really celebrated our win, haven’t we?”

James returns his gaze back towards Kinkade. He’s right—in the aftermath of the battle, they had been so caught up with a million other things: retrieving the Paladins from their fall, holding a memorial service for their fallen allies, welcoming the intergalactic rebels, repairing and upgrading bases and aircrafts, rebuilding their world. There’s still a lot more to do after this tiny escape to the rooftop, more responsibilities to be met. The thought of celebrating the simple fact of their survival has never even crossed his mind.

“I overheard some Balmerans and Olkari talking about a great dining place in town,” Kinkade continues with a nod in the general direction of the town he was looking at a while ago. “I think they called it Vrepit-sal’s, or something.”

James smiles at the idea. It sounds nice to get the team together for some good fun and alien-food-appreciation for a change. After all they’ve gone through, it just seems appropriate.

“Maybe we could go there once we’ve got some vacant time.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” James says, his hand already fishing his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll tell Rizavi and Leifsdottir right away. Getting Veronica off her shift might be a little trickier since she’s working with the techs on the Atlas—”

“I, uh, that’s not entirely what I meant,” Kinkade cuts him off, and James catches his eyes darting a little to the side in what seems to be… uncertainty? Nervousness?

“I told myself I’d ask if we survived the battle for Earth, and we did, yet it’s still taken me this long,” Kinkade continues, and this time James can read that there’s something so uncharacteristic about his tone and bearing right now, but not in a bad way. Somehow he feels like he’s allowed access to see a side of Kinkade that not everybody gets to see, and it’s making him nervous as well, but in a good kind of way. It makes him not want to break Kinkade’s train of thought, to not interrupt even with the questions brewing in his mind, for fear that they might lose this moment if he did.

Kinkade lets out a heavy sigh, and straightens his back. He turns and hold’s James’ gaze.

“I kind of meant just the two of us,” he says, in a soft voice that makes James feel like the sole holder of an important secret. For a second, his eyes fall on their hands between them, close enough to touch. “If you’re up for it.”

It has never hit James so hard how much he likes the idea of that. Of them together in that way. Of how easy it is to find this happiness when he wasn’t even aware he was looking for it. Of how he’d like for more secret moments like this alone together.

Kinkade looks at him expectantly, yet doesn’t press him for an immediate answer. James likes that.

He inches his hand closer, until their fingers graze each other.

“Does tomorrow evening sound good to you?”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm astral projecting to type this, but do feel free to scream with me on [ twitter](https://twitter.com/turtlekeef) or on [ tumblr](https://eruriholic.tumblr.com) :'D


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